


Blown Cover

by Bay_Ronan_Kellner



Series: Hunted [6]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Family, M/M, Slash, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bay_Ronan_Kellner/pseuds/Bay_Ronan_Kellner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian knew just where to lay the blame. This was on Charlie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blown Cover

This house was not enemy territory. Ian repeated that in his head, like a soothing mantra, throughout dinner. It didn't work. No way was he going to find his zen here.

He couldn't blame Don. As promised, he had dragged other agents to this family affair: David and Terry were sitting at the table too, and judging by their familiarity with both Alan and the house itself, they seemed to be regular guests. Don, meanwhile, was lounging at the foot of the table, keeping up small talk with everyone and laughing at some red tape mishaps at the Bureau.  

He couldn't blame Alan either. The patriarch of the Eppes family was, overall, a relaxed host. Or at least he was at first. The man looked more and more confused and alarmed throughout the meal, but no surprise there.

It wasn't David and Terry's fault. Terry figured out what was going on almost immediately. She looked puzzled, and then a little shocked, but finally accepting.  David caught up soon afterward, but he had little reaction apart from raising his eyebrows at Don, who shot him a 'what can you do?' kind of shrug in return.

No, Ian knew just where to lay the blame. This was on Charlie.

The professor would make a terrible undercover agent. He couldn't hide the mingling of warmth and desire in his eyes whenever he looked Ian's way—and that was about every four seconds. He couldn't stop himself from flashing these small, intrigued smiles at Ian, or from telling the rest of the table about their hike in Topanga State Park today with far more enthusiasm than warranted. And he couldn't stop himself from touching Ian at every opportunity, even if it was just a brushing of fingers.

So much for keeping things under wraps. But what had Ian expected? Charlie had run to his older brother for advice as soon as he realized Ian was on the prowl.  Maybe that's what Don had been trying to tell him: the Eppes were a package deal. But why did Charlie's father and brother need to know about this?

It wasn't that Ian wanted to trap Charlie in a closet. He just wanted to give the professor a chance to figure things out without interference from this close-knit family of his. Ian knew he had to take his time with this particular prey; otherwise, he risked rushing Charlie into something that the professor could write off as an interesting, bi-curious experiment. And Alan and Don were probably hoping it was nothing more.

But Ian wanted a hell of a lot more from Charlie. He was hunting in earnest now. 

Still, there was no point in working to preserve a blown cover. So, after an exchange of wary glances with Don, Ian put his arm over the back of Charlie's chair. Charlie beamed. Ian smiled down at him and then used his free hand to snatch half a biscuit from his plate. Charlie laughed and helped himself to some of Ian's string beans.

It wasn't the best way of breaking the news to Charlie's father.  Ian knew that. So when the man got up a moment later to carry his plate into the kitchen, Ian decided to follow him.

Charlie tried to join him, but Ian put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down into his chair. 

"Stay put, Charlie," Don added, reinforcing the unspoken order.

Charlie looked annoyed, but he remained seated. Ian wasn't sure which man he was obeying.

Not that it mattered. Any power struggles with Don would have to wait. Right now, Ian's job was to square his shoulders and get on with an unpleasant conversation. It'd been a long time since he felt the need to explain himself to someone's parent.

 

-###-

 

"Would you like some help with the dishes?" Ian cringed as the words spilled out of his mouth. His opening could use some work: why did he give the man an easy way to say no?

"No thanks," Alan answered. "I've got it covered."

"I can grab the rest of the plates, if you'd like."

"That's not necessary. You're a guest."

"But not a particularly welcome one?" There, that was better. It should force him to engage.

Charlie's father turned off the faucet, but kept his back to Ian. "Do you expect me to ask what your intentions are toward my son?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"Well, I'm not going to. Charlie's a grown man."

"Look, Mr. Eppes, I realize this, ah, thing between me and Charlie might come as a shock . . ."

"Agent Edgerton, neither you nor Charlie owe me any explanations. Like I said, my son's an adult. And, technically speaking, this is his house. I'm not about to interrogate anyone he decides to bring over or, ah, go hiking with."

"I see." Ian shrugged. "I'll leave you be, then."

He turned around and stalked back into the dining room, regaining his equilibrium as he reached his chair. Things hadn't gone that badly—not really. If Alan Eppes wanted nothing more from him than a polite truce, that was just fine.

 

-###-

 

"You didn't give Ian much of a chance tonight, Dad." Don took a gulp from his beer, watching as his father pretended to relax with the paper. "He's not much of a family man, but he did show up and he did try to talk to you."

It was a safe enough time for this discussion. David and Terry had already left. Ian was still here, but he and Charlie were outside by the koi pond. Their laughter wafted inside, broken up by long moments of silence. Don tried not to think about how they were filling them.

His Dad gave him an accusing look as he put the paper down. "You knew about this.”

“Yeah. Charlie didn’t want to tell you until it became a thing.”

“Well, it sure looks like a thing!”

Don snorted. “Yeah.”

“There's never been a hint of this with Charlie, Don. I'm racking my brains, trying to figure out what your mother and I missed—but this is completely new."

"You didn't miss anything. I don't think Charlie's been gay all these years and hiding it. He's either just discovering that he's bi, or he's still straight but with a weird thing for snipers."

"Or for one sniper in particular."

"True."

"I don't get it, Donny. A sniper?"

Don raised his eyebrows.

"I know the guy works for the FBI," his Dad said in a rush. "I know we need snipers and all sorts of SWAT team types. But what kind of person wants to make a living out of using others—even bad guys—for target practice?"

"Dad, when that sniper was taking shots at my team—look, his first shot was at Charlie—Ian was there to take him out. So don't look down on his work."

"At Charlie? Don, why didn't you tell me—"

"Because I was already a wreck about it! It wouldn't have helped to make you a wreck too. And I told you. Charlie learned his lesson. He won't come to a live scene like that again."

His Dad slouched in his chair. "That's why you think Charlie is hero worshiping this guy now."

Don nodded. "Yeah. I think there's some of that going on. Maybe that's all it is, and this infatuation will burn itself out. But if there's something more, something real between them—well, Dad, we're going to have to, you know." He finished with a shrug and another gulp of beer.

"No, I don't know."

Don put the bottle down. "Draw Ian into the family. At least a little."

"You said he's not a family man."

"He isn't. But I think he's willing to try for Charlie's sake. So you have to be willing to talk to the guy."

"You're right." 

It was a quiet, slow admission—almost a whisper—but an admission nonetheless. Don knew better than to push for more. 

"I'll go put on some more coffee." His Dad pushed himself out of the chair. "Maybe all four of us can chat when those two lose interest in the koi pond."

 

-###-

 

If Charlie’s brain had been anywhere close to functioning, he could have found the math to convey this . . . this feeling of drowning in a totally good way. And there must be an elegant mathematical expression for the way Ian tasted—like rich coffee with a hint of mint lurking underneath—and for the slow, lingering way he kissed.

Charlie wanted more. He wanted more of this heat, he wanted more of this taste—hell, he wanted to devour the sniper. And his dick was hard. So hard that it was straining through his jeans. So hard it hurt. 

But Ian was determined to take his sweet time, damn it, even as Charlie urged him on.

"Whoa, Professor." Ian drew back a little, nipping Charlie's lower lip. "You really do have a thing for public displays. Your father and brother are right inside."

"And yet I don't care." Charlie drew him close again. "The garage is right over there."

"Uh-huh. First you want it out on the trail, now in your garage?"

He was panting now. "You don't strike me as the five star hotel type."

"No, just as the take it slow type. Now settle down, Professor. Act like a civilized human being, because we have to face your family again soon."

"No. Can't." 

"Do I have to teach you a lesson?"

Charlie pulled back just a little, so that he could smile up at Ian. "Yeah. Maybe you should spank me after all."

Ian chortled—a throaty, guttural sound that made Charlie's erection even more painful. "Oh, I plan to punish you, don't worry."

Charlie felt Ian's hand slide onto his ass, cupping one cheek. He moaned and pressed closer to the man, opening his mouth to him.

That's when the cell phone went off. 

Charlie hated that sound. He knew just what it meant at this hour, and just why it broke the spell between them. 

"That's mine." Ian stepped back and fished the phone out of his pocket.

"I know."

He tried not to listen in as Ian spoke, but it would have been impossible to miss the gist of the conversation. Ian was back on active duty. Someone needed his expertise for a manhunt, and so had cut through all the red tape in the wake of the shooting.

Ian sighed as he clicked off. "I'm sorry, Professor. I have to be at LAX in three hours. I'm on my way to Atlanta."

"A case?"

"Yeah. I gotta go now and get ready."

"Do you have a lot of stuff to pack?"

He shook his head. "No. My life fits into a backpack. My clothes and my guns are already packed in the rental. But I need to take a shower, check out—you know the deal. And I have to get to LAX in time to return the car."

"Wait. If your stuff is already in the car—Ian, grab a shower here. You can call to check out or we can do it for you." He took Ian by the hand as he spoke and pulled him back inside. "Hey Dad, Don?"

"We're in here, Charlie," Don called out. "What's up?"

Charlie took a breath as he reached the living room with a surprisingly docile Ian in tow. "Ian has to get to LAX in three hours. He's got a case in Atlanta. He's going to shower here, but we'll need to check him out of his hotel and drop off his rental car."

His dad nodded. "You three go in the rental. I'll drive behind you. You can hop in after you drop it and we'll go straight to the terminal."

"Wait," Ian broke in. "Look, I'm fine. This isn't necessary—"

"Good idea," Don said, ignoring Ian's interruption. "Ian, I'll call LAX security so they can expedite you. What are you bringing through?"

Charlie let him rattle off the makes of his sniper rifle and service weapon, but then he hustled him upstairs. "There are fresh towels in the bathroom. Give me your keys. I'll grab your bag from the car."

"Charlie, I—"

But Charlie kissed him quiet. "It's all set. Don't complain—at least this way I'll get to say goodbye to you at the airport."

 

-###-

 

Ian tried to sit shot gun, but Don all but shoved him into the back seat with Charlie. 

Charlie grinned as he took the middle seat, buckled up with the shoulder strap out of the way and behind him, and then snuggled up against Ian. "Stop fighting it. Don doesn't mind playing chauffeur. I'd do the same for him."

Don glanced over his shoulder at them. "If you ever got your driver's license, you would."

Ian put an arm around Charlie's shoulders. "What's the hold up on that?"

"Long story." Charlie didn't bother explaining it. He cupped Ian's face in his hands instead and kissed him.

Ian gave into the kiss, ignoring the way Don was shaking his head—and probably rolling his eyes—up front. And when they finally broke apart, he pulled Charlie closer and rested his chin on top of his hair.

There was something to be said for all this, he decided. The fresh shower, the feel of Charlie in his arms, the ability to relax on the way to the airport for a change.

He closed his eyes half way, but he could still see the rear view mirror. The head lights behind them were Alan's, who was following along until they got to the rental place. Ian smiled a little at the effort Charlie's brother and father were making. Of course, maybe they just wanted to help him on his way.

Or maybe there was something to be said for having a boyfriend with a tight family. Ian had made a rule of avoiding such entanglements in the past, but—well, the professor might be worth breaking some self-imposed strictures for.

"Call me." Charlie pulled away a bit to look up at him.

Ian ran his fingers through the professor's hair. "Of course."

"I know you won't have time while you're on the case," Charlie clarified. "But when it's over, call me."

"I will." Ian smiled. "Did you think I was going to let you out of our next date? I'm still counting on that  ** _Dragnet_**  marathon."

"We'll have to figure out whether to have it here or in Virginia."

Ian shook his head. "I've got some time off coming to me. I'll head out west as soon as the case is done."

"'Kay. But don't stay at a hotel this time. You can crash with us."

"Ah —"

"Come on." Charlie elbowed him. "I'm not trying to push you into anything, but I own a whole big house. I promise you your own room and plenty of privacy. Plus home-cooked meals."

Don grunted. "Don't let him barbecue for you."

"Yeah, we'll leave that to my Dad," Charlie agreed. "What do you say, Ian?"

"Professor, I don't think—"

But Charlie wasn't about to take no for an answer. "We don't bite, you know. Besides, you're the scary one, remember?"

Ian grinned. "There are all different kinds of scary. But all right, Professor. I'll give you a call when the case is done—then expect me at your doorstep."


End file.
